


Cocoa and Cookies

by TellMeNoAgain



Series: Sam's Bedtime Stories [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Age Play, Age Play Caregiver Tony Stark, Age Play Lite- Nothing Shocking Inside, Age Play Little Peter Parker, M/M, Peter parker is an adult
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:02:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27884965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TellMeNoAgain/pseuds/TellMeNoAgain
Summary: Look, I'll be honest, when I first started reading fanfiction way back in the angelsites webring dial-up days,I didn't get age play fics.I didn'twantto get them.  (Or even be nice about them and let them exist, harming no one and nothing.)Age play, while relatively low on the kink-o-meter, is still a huge taboo.  Altered headspaces in general- puppyplay, catgirls, ponyplay, even subspace itself- often get a lot of side-eye, because if there's one thing that Serious Adults (tm) despise, it's peoplehaving fun and playing pretend.So this is just a sweet exploration of a snippet in time between a sub experiencing littlespace and their Daddydom.That's all it is.  A tiny little bedtime story for my good friend SamTheSnake, to show them how littlespace isn't a bad space to be in.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Series: Sam's Bedtime Stories [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2041771
Comments: 30
Kudos: 68





	Cocoa and Cookies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SamTheSnake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamTheSnake/gifts).



> A quick chat about Littles and Caregivers, you can skip this if you're familiar with the kink:  
> 1) Oh my God, is this like- is the Caregiver a pedophile? A: Obviously not. They are engaging with a consenting adult. They are well aware that their Little is, in fact, a fucking adult, the entire time they are doing the scene with their Little. They _sought out_ this consenting adult _for this type of play_. I see where you took that wrong turn there, buddy, but you can back that judgybus right up.  
> 2) So then- what's the, like, draw for them? Honestly? A: The innocence and the enthusiasm. As you read this fic, do you notice how easily Peter is entranced by the world around him? You could do that right now, if you weren't being such a Big Goddamn Adult all the time, wearing those Big Goddamn Adult Panties everywhere. Ever stand in the middle of Mother Nature, breathless and awed and shocked by how connected you feel to the beauty? Those moments are common for Littles- they allow themselves to get excited by all the small things that life has to offer and I'll be honest, I'll cut a bitch who ruins that moment for a Little. As a Caregiver, you're drawn to that enthusiasm and excitement, drawn to protect and enjoy the world through their eye view. It's an incredibly indulgent mood, and suits itself to other kinds of play, as well.  
> 3) So, uh, what's the draw for the Little? A: What's the draw of any subspace? The relaxation of barriers, the giving up of power and control, the realization that your whole complicated world doesn't have to be that way, for the boundaries of the scene. You can ignore your deadlines and the responsibilities you can't otherwise put down, and just- react to your partner. Each Little brings their own particular specific reasons or desires to their kink, I won't pretend to be able to enumerate them all here, but c'mon, guys. Ever wanted to feel breathless on a rollercoaster again, lick dripping ice cream as you swung your legs, feel giddy with excitement about something as simple as cookies? Ever wanted to feel the absolute bone-deep certainty that someone loves you _best of all_? That's what Littlespace can be- although every Little is individual, of course.  
> 4) Ewww, why did you make some scenes kinda _sexy_. A: Please. You've met me. And if you haven't, this is a great introduction.

Peter stared in wonder at the bright lights of the tree as they glowed, his gaze caught just a little bit longer than he'd ever allow himself to appreciate them when he _wasn't playing pretend._ He was _maybe_ overly cautious when he lifted his hand and hung the last of the shiny red glass balls on the perfect spot, but the only person watching him was Daddy, and Daddy liked it when he was _careful._ He wiggled a little with glee, leaning back on the step stool to try to take in the whole of their _first tree_ with delight, the warmth of the fire getting just a little warmer along his side as the motion brought him closer to the fireplace.

Peter knew it was just pretend, but it felt so good when Daddy called across the room, "You be careful, baby boy. I don't want this cocoa going cold while I save you from the fire."

Peter grinned at his reflection in the nearest silver ball, his face all weird and stretched out. It was just _pretend_ that he would fall, that Daddy had to worry about him, but it made him feel so _safe_ and _good,_ deep down inside. "Yes, Daddy," he chirped.

"You know what? Just- just get down from there altogether, you can come help me with the tray," said Daddy. "How many more do you have to hang? I'll help you."

"Da-ddy," huffed Peter, placing his feet with additional attention and caution because _Daddy said so,_ as he followed the man's directions. "I'm all _done,_ Daddy," he sighed, crossing his arms as he let himself stomp-walk over to the counter.

"Did you do all that while I was whipping up this cream?" asked Daddy, his face a picture of surprise and pride. He slipped a finger into the cream and dabbed it on Peter's nose, making Peter's eyes cross and his lips pout.

"Da-ddy," whined Peter, delighted, sticking out his tongue and trying to lick off the cream. 

"Silly baby boy," whispered Daddy, smirking, before wiping the cream off with his thumb. "That's not what your tongue is for."

"I know," Peter whispered back.

"What did I say we'd do after you were done with the decorations, baby?" asked Daddy innocently.

"Cocoa and cookies!" squealed Peter, his heart thudding as if it wasn't just pretend, and it really _was_ a special treat because he'd been so good for Daddy all afternoon.

"Hmm," hummed Daddy, a mean little light in his eyes, the kind that always sent a thrill through Peter whether he was Big or Little that day. "Are you sure I said cocoa and _cookies,_ baby? You look awfully tired, sweetheart. You sure I didn't say cocoa and a _nap?_ "

"No!" protested Peter, his heart falling. Naptime meant an _end_ to pretend time, and he didn't want that!

"Oh," teased Daddy, eyebrows flying and smug smirk plastered across his face once again, "well, if you're _sure,_ baby."

"I am," said Peter confidently. "Cocoa and cookies. You _promised."_

"And a Stark keeps their promises," Daddy assured him.

Peter giggled and looked up at Daddy through his lashes, letting all of his admiration shine because there was no reason, while they were pretending, to try to hide it. "Well, _you_ do, Daddy."

"I try," replied Daddy with a smile that looked just a little bit sad for a split second. He dolloped on the last of the whipped cream, overfilling one of the big mugs, and lifted the tray with two hands. Daddy was careful, too, thought Peter with satisfaction. Daddy was always careful, around his baby boy.

"Settle down, now, by the couch," ordered Daddy cheerfully.

Peter made a face but then reconsidered it, grabbing pillows and creating a small nest for himself, where he could sit and rest his head on Daddy's knee and they could both look at the tree while they sipped cocoa. That would be _heavenly._ He waited for Daddy to place the tray on the coffee table in front of them and then slid to his butt on the pillows, tipping and tilting until his face rubbed against the man's knee. Daddy's hand immediately threaded through his hair comfortingly, scratching gently. Peter sighed, letting himself go boneless with pleasure.

"Y'know, if anyone had told me what I'd be doing this Christmas Eve a decade ago," chuckled Daddy, tapping Peter's head in a way he knew meant, _gimme my cocoa, you brat,_ "I would have called Fury and had them declared a public threat. But, baby boy, this may be the best part of my whole year."

"You didn't know me then," said Peter softly, handing up the huge mug with careful hands, eyes already on his own mug.

"I didn't," agreed Daddy in a voice rich with satisfaction, and there was the sound of soft sipping.

"And I didn't know you then," added Peter impulsively, taking a huge gulp and ending up with whipped cream on his nose again. 

Daddy sighed. "Peter, go slowly, baby. I don't want to clean it off your clothes and those pillows, huh?"

"Be careful," agreed Peter, because Daddy was always _saying_ that to him.

"Yes, be careful," agreed Daddy fondly. 

They sat for several long moments, sipping the chocolate, and somehow, when he was pretending, the flavors that were too sharp or too sweet or too-whatever never seemed to overwhelm Peter as much. He could enjoy them, give them space in his body even though they were big flavors and usually too much for him. He sighed happily as Daddy slid his hand back down, stroking Peter's hair over and over again, hypnotically.

"You're the best gift," Daddy said softly, in a tone of wonder, choked with something more. "Everything you give me- afternoons like this, Peter, I-"

"Don't cry," protested Peter, pulling away and looking up in alarm. "Daddy, don't-"

"Happy tears are okay, baby, remember?" said Daddy sternly.

Peter nodded solemnly and scolded Daddy, "But only happy ones, Daddy."

"Only happy ones, baby," Daddy assured him.

"Cookie?" asked Peter brightly.

"What was that?" asked Daddy sharply.

"Can-I- _please_ -have-a-cookie- _please_ ," gushed Peter, making his eyes go round and big because it was all _pretend_ and there was no one there but the two of them.

Daddy frowned before grinning. "You may."

Peter reached for the tray as Daddy added, "But you'll come up here to eat it, baby boy."

Peter shivered and grabbed a cookie, then, carefully putting his mug back on the tray. He turned and looked up at Daddy, his big body draped comfortably on the sofa, gray slacks and white sweater looking like a winter wonderland advertisement as he tipped the mug and drained it. He reached over and set it on the side table with a _click_ as Peter knee-walked back to the space between Daddy's legs, hesitating once he'd reached it.

"Not like that, baby boy," corrected Daddy gently, softly, always so soft and gentle when Peter was pretending. "Daddy doesn't want playtime. He just wants his baby boy, and some sugar, for Christmas Eve, is that all right?"

Peter nodded wordlessly, and crawled up to sit on Daddy's lap, and maybe it was awkward for him when he _wasn't_ pretending, but it was the easiest thing in the world to cuddle in and melt against Daddy's strong chest, surrounded by Daddy's strong arms when he _was_ pretending to be Daddy's little boy. "There's my little man," breathed Daddy into Peter's ear, as Peter raised the cookie to his lips and took a bite, the sugar bursting against his tongue but not twisting his stomach. "Gimme a nibble," teased Daddy, and then there was a brief tussle for who got to hold the cookie, Daddy winning because Peter had to be so _careful_ and Daddy knew all kinds of tricks. 

Daddy took a _big_ bite, which made Peter pout until Daddy held the cookie up for Peter to bite and he took one that was _nearly_ as big in retaliation. He munched happily on the treat while Daddy sputtered laughter at him. Peter ignored him and plotted his next move for total cookie dominance. While he was planning, Daddy took another bite, and then Peter snapped up the whole rest of the cookie in revenge, feeling a giddy giggle fill his chest and burst into the air around them.

"I love that sound," Daddy told him, nuzzling his neck happily.

"Me 'oo," sighed Peter, and then he narrowed his gaze to a detail. "Daddy, a mess!" he gasped, pulling on Daddy's wrists until the hands were easily visible to both of them, the red sugar crystals- evidence of their epic battle- strewn across Daddy's fingertips and palm.

"Don't worry about i-" began Daddy fondly, but Daddy had taught Peter _no mess is best_ and Peter was a good boy who _listened_ to his Daddy. He darted forward and licked the closest finger clean, the sugar bursting again across his tongue, making him moan with excitement as he licked out over the next one. "Baby," breathed Daddy, while Peter squirmed with happiness and attacked the third and fourth fingers. "Baby," said Daddy a little more firmly, as Peter lapped at the palm of his hand, tracking down every single spot of sugar. 

Finally, Daddy snapped, "Peter," in a very stern tone of voice. Peter froze, tongue mid-lap of Daddy's palm. "Daddy said no playtime, right now, Peter," said Daddy slowly, careful again, now that Peter was paying attention.

"Oops," said Peter, because he was sure he had done something naughty, if Daddy was making the _you're-in-trouble_ face at him. He didn't know what he'd done, but sometimes that happened when he was pretending. Daddy said that's because Peter was _so good_ at pretending.

Daddy smiled at him, though, and said, "It's okay, baby. You didn't do anything _wrong,_ but you know Daddy needs you to be careful sometimes."

Peter nodded. Daddy was always reminding him to be _careful,_ when he was pretending. "Yes, Daddy," he said.

"Come here, I've decided we _should_ nap, baby boy," said Daddy slowly, pulling Peter to lay down beside him on the couch, both of them all stretched out, but Peter tucked against Daddy's chest. "Don't be sad, baby," Daddy whispered just for him. "When you wake up, I have such a good idea for a special treat for you."

Peter smiled. He did love Daddy's special treats. Just for him, just what he'd always wanted.  
  
Just like these special times, when he could _pretend_ as much as he wanted.

**Author's Note:**

> There. You made it all the way to the end. I'm happy to report that Rome still stands tall and the world hasn't crumbled into the abyss while Peter pretended he was safe and young and happy.
> 
> You are welcome to come ask questions in the comment section, but if you stomp in attempting to kinkshame, please be aware that I have a metaphorical paddle I am not afraid to swing for bold and brash rudeness.
> 
> It's fine if it's not your thing- you're absolutely allowed to not _get it_ or even to _not like it_. What you're not allowed to do, as a goddamn adult who understands consent culture and wants to treat others the way they'd like to be treated, is make other people feel bad for what they DO enjoy. We clear?


End file.
